


Forbidden Love

by Park_chim



Category: An Inspector Calls - Priestley
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 00:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7914178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Park_chim/pseuds/Park_chim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geric Fanfiction by Anna and Hannah,  this is totally original no copyright infringement intended<br/>Idea: Gerald meets Sheila and tricks her into thinking that he is coming to see her when really he is only there for Eric!!!!!!!! Then he makes A Move. the croft family is angry @ gerald bc he dont like gurllzz and bc he likes eric</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forbidden Love

A loud shout came from the sitting room, startling a nearby servant. "Gerald Karen Croft!"  
yelled Barry Croft in a very angry tone of voice. "Get your ass down here boy, we need a  
chat." Sitting upstairs in his bedroom, Gerald trembled in fear. He felt like he was going to  
shit the bed. "Oh no," he whispered. "They know."

He meandered downstairs, deliberately stalling for time. Barry Croft grabbed Gerald by  
the arm, plonking him down precariously on the sofa. His mother glared at him  
disapprovingly, a knowing glint in her eye, the other eye having been eaten by a raccoon  
when she was looking for food in the bin. "Are you? Are you?"

"GAY!" shouted Barry, spittle flying from his mouth. Gerald instantly raised his hands in  
defense. "No! No I'm not, I love me some boob!"

"Clearly not," exclaimed his father. "I went in your bedroom last night and that ain't what I  
found!"  
Gerald fumbled with his jumper, looking for a loose thread to fiddle with as his father  
pulled up a magazine from the table. "Who the fuck is this, boy?"

The magazine was a glossy print, definitely not cheap at all, full to the brim with pictures  
of men in revealing clothing. On the front cover was a man that Gerald recognised  
instantly. He tried to keep a straight face as his father shouted obsceneties at him. Barry  
Croft yelled, "Do you know who this is? This is my best friend's son! Arthur doesn't even  
know that his boy 'models'," he shouted, emphasis on the last word. "I ought to tell him  
what his son gets up to."

"No! Please!" he shouted, searching for some semblance of reason to give to his father to  
save the man he loved. "This could ruin his business!" He shouted indignantly, arms  
waving. "You don't wanna do that to your best friend," he scowled. Barry crossed his  
arms, thoughts whirring through the dusty barren wasteland he called his brain. "Fine. But  
I don't want you buying any of these magazines again, you hear me boy? Or you're out of  
this house, banished for good!"

Karen Croft then began to cry, delicate tears rolling down her face, a face that had had  
many a botox injection.

Gerald turned on his heel and stormed the house, not letting his parents see the crystal  
tears running down his cheek. He ran through the snow, his feet guiding him to the only  
place he could go. The only place that he felt truly safe. Eric's house. He banged on the  
door, his knuckles making an echo against the wood. Sheila Birling, his good friend and  
nothing more, opened the door in a bright, neon pink tracksuit, her hair in dreadlocks, with  
a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. "Alright Gerry? Howya'?" She mumbled, attempting  
to embrace the tall man. Gerald pushed her aside, muttering the immortal phrase, "Boom  
bitch get out the way! Get out the way!"

Mr and Mrs. Birling came out of the kitchen in which they had been snorting Doritos in, to  
see what the commotion was. Brushing bright orange Dorito dust off of his equally  
hideous blue tracksuit, Mr Birling shouted, "Oi mate, what you think you doin' comin'  
round 'ere calling my daughter a slag?" Gerald pushed him aside, and the older man  
collided with his wife, falling to the floor in matching tracksuits, as couples do. Gerald  
continued singing, as he stormed upstairs.

His feet guided him naturally to the place he knew that his special someone was in. He  
rapped on the door, opening it before an answer was heard, only to see (shock horror)  
Eric in his boxers!!!!

Gerald got jelly legs. Eric is shocked, but pleasantly surprised. He turned to the taller  
man, and gasped. "You can't be here!! My parents are home! So is Sheila!"  
"I needed to see you," whispered Gerald. Eric's phone was running out of barge, so he  
quickly grabbed the charger before returning to the conversation. Gerald ran to him,  
holding him in his arms. "You're the only thing that makes sense to me," he crooned. The  
two fell onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. "Sheila is downstairs! We can't do this...  
not here," Eric said. "What about behind the bins at Tesco? I mean old Marge lives there  
on an old jacket, but she won't mind," Eric muttered seductively. "I don't care. All that  
matters is my love for you, mon cherie." Eric blushed, red as a spicy, fiery, burning hot  
Dorito.

Eric whispered to Gerald. "I'm a pretty girl, speed is key!"

Gerald muttered. "They call you Jabba the Hutt. I'm so fabulous."

Eric moaned, "Give me your SuperLuv!!"

Then they got busy.

The Birlings, busy snorting Wotsits now, were listening to the ongoing sound from  
upstairs. "Why the fuck did we ever let him near our son," Sybil muttered. Sheila, smelling  
of bananas and sadness, was rolling on the vintage charity shop carpet. "Why won't he  
give me his SuperLuv???" she howled in anguish.

THE END


End file.
